


Life on Kamino

by Guardian_of_Hope



Series: Search, Rescue, & Retrieval, the Clones Era [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Before the 425th, Clone Troopers - Freeform, Finding Family, Gen, training on Kamino, training simulation violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-10 09:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10434687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian_of_Hope/pseuds/Guardian_of_Hope
Summary: The clones destined for the 425th grew up under the rainy skies of Kamino, making friends, finding names, and integrating the lessons of duty and honor.





	1. Blaze of Glory

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing story about the clones of the 425th, how they got their names or what made them the men we know in the 425th. I've got two more chapters planned at the moment, but I also am working on the next chronological story about Kara. (Her return to Coruscant and the Padawan Debate.) 
> 
> This chapter is for Merfilly, because you wanted to hear about Blaze.

The thing about life on Kamino was that it could be boring.  Every day was a mix of flash training and weapons work, running simulated war scenarios with your unit, and maybe occasionally earning the distinction of running a space sim by winning the right scenarios.  For CT-2983, there was more excitement in making sure that 82 and 81 didn’t antagonize the Longnecks with their unique approach to strategy in the combat sims than there was in the actual sims.  There were days that CT-2983 longed for the time to come when their trainers declared his batch, or even his unit, advanced enough for the harder sims, the ones that would allow 82 and 81 to explore those creative impulses in the approved manner.

Today, however, the unit was to participate in a protect the _Jetii_ mission as the protection squad.  Their _Jetii_ for the scenario was one their trainers, and the rumor was that he was evaluating them all for reassignment to the support troops.  CT-2983 had nightmares about that assignment, the last hope for clones on Kamino, doomed to spend their days going over equipment and armor for the clones who would leave Kamino to fight for the _Jetii._

They were given standard battle gear, blasters and vibroblades, and a handful of the modified detonators that would simulate the explosions of a detonator without the risk of casualty, supposedly.  CT-2974, in the batch before theirs, had managed to modify the detonator enough to render two training rooms inoperable for three months.  The clone had been removed from standard training for punishment detail, and was rumored to be getting special instruction in how to create and use detonations.

Once geared up, CT-2985, their sergeant for the exercise, gestured for them to gather round.  “All right, _vod,_ we’re protection squad on this mission.  Our sole objective is to reach our _Jetii_ and escort them across the room.  We’ll be tagged as _Genet_ Unit for the purposes of identification.  Against us is _Resol_ Squad and _Kebiin_ Unit.”

“Three units?” 84 blurted out, when 85 glared at him 84 winced, “Sorry sir, but three units against one?”

“A squad and a unit,” 82 said, “they’ll be from an advanced batch, wouldn’t they?”

“I don’t have that information,” 85 said.  “I just know that there is a squad and a unit waiting for us in there, and we’ve got a _Jetii_ to protect.  83, 82, you’re on rear guard today.  84, 81, you’ll be our _Jetii’s_ personal escort, you stick on him no matter what.  I’m on point.”

CT-2983 wanted to groan, because the only thing worse than letting 82 and 81 loose with minimal instruction was to force them to split up.  For all their shared insanity, 82 and 81 restrained each other in a way that none of the rest of them had ever managed.  He caught 85’s eye, and the other clone gave the grimace shrug that said clear as day that it was orders from up top, not his own choice. 

CT-2984 sidled over to CT-2983, “Want to trade, _vod?”_

“No,” CT-2983 ground out, “orders are orders, 84.”

“Pronto,” 84 replied softly.

“What?”  CT-2983 asked, frowning at his brother.

“It’s Pronto,” 84 replied with dignity.

CT-2983 managed a tight smile, “You got it, Pronto.”  He whistled to catch the attention of the rest of the unit.

“Yeah, 83?”  85 asked.

“Sir, I would like to have the honor of introducing our brother,” CT-2983 said as Pronto ducked his head with a groan, “This is Pronto.”

The other members of the unit grinned and 82, being closest, reached over to hug their brother.  “Welcome home,” 85 said.

“Thanks, Sergeant,” Pronto said, clearly embarrassed.

“First of our unit,” 81 said, “what made you decide?”

“Trainers kept telling me that I’m fast, so I just picked something that meant fast.”  Pronto shrugged.

“It suits you,” CT-2983 said with a nod.

“That being said, we do have an exercise to begin,” 85 said as he settled his blaster rifle.  “Remember, get in, get the _Jetii,_ and get out.”

There was a round of agreement as CT-2983 checked his weapons, and 85 triggered the door as they formed up behind him.

The room was filled with blinds and towers configured to be a representation of a forest.  85 led the way into the room carefully, with Pronto and 81 steps behind him.  The pair spread out as they cleared the door taking up a staggered flanking position, then CT-2983 stepped forward in unison with 82.  The door closed as soon as they were through, a hissing sound that seemed to contain a finality that made CT-2983’s heart beat faster.

They moved forward, and after a few steps, 82 pivoted to walk backwards, shoulder pressed against CT-2983, who kept his attention jumping between Pronto, 81, and 85, reading their body language as the air became filled with the noises intended to simulate a forest at night.  At least the helmets kept the light levels from being a problem.

There was a scuffing noise, and then the flash-bang of a detonation went off.

“Who?”  82 breathed beside him, eyes focused on their backtrail.

“85 and Pronto,” CT-2983 replied, watching as Pronto helped 85 up and away from them.  81 was looking back at them, red spots on his armor showing that he hadn’t quite managed to duck.  “We need to keep moving.”

“But,” 81 began.

“They already know we’re here,” CT-2983 replied, “and the _Jetii_ can make sure those wounds of yours don’t get any worse.”  He couldn’t tell yet, but he knew.  Their armor was coated with a reactant that, when contacted by the smoke from the detonators, turned red, slowly.  It mimicked a spreading wound, and only their _Jetii_ carried the compound to stop that.

81 hesitated a moment longer before he nodded, “You’ve got lead.”

CT-2983 hesitated a moment, realizing he’d completely overridden the duty roster, but then he nodded back.  “Let’s get moving.”

They headed further into the room carefully, slipping from blind to tower and back one at a time, coordinating their journey with hand gestures and barely whispered words.  There were two more traps, barely avoided thanks to 82’s sharp eyes, and they all were sure they were being spied on by the enemy.  But finally, they found the _Jetii_ was waiting for them.

If CT-2983 had thought of it, he would have picked maybe the Doc to play the Jedi, as he’d done so on many other occasions, but this, this was one of the female trainers.  They’d never worked with her, but the red armor and short dark hair identified this as Rav Bralor. 

“General?”  CT-2983 called as he carefully approached the camp and sent 82 to scout around with a hand signal.

“Trooper?”  Bralor said, turning away from the center of the camp.

“Yes sir, General,” CT-2983 said.  “Trooper CT-2983 and Trooper CT-2981.”

“Are you it?”  Bralor demanded shrilly.

CT-2983 winced slightly, “No sir, General.  If I may, we’re in enemy territory.  We have to get moving.”

“We are safe here,” Bralor said, “we’re not under fire.”

CT-2983 blinked, wondering what role Bralor was playing here, wishing it had been his lead so he had some idea of what to say.  “Our orders are to get you out of here, General, not wait around.  Please, let’s get moving.”

“Nonsense,” Bralor began, sounding haughty, “we do not have to leave immediately.”

CT-2983 bit his lip, then decided that if the only way he’d get her moving was a lie, then he’d lie his heart out.  He was here to keep the _Jetii_ safe, not pander to them.  “General, we only have a limited time to get to the landing zone.  If we aren’t there, the gunship won’t land and we’ll miss our window.  I understand that haste is not the Jedi way, but if we do not make haste, we will be left behind.”

For a long moment Bralor stared at him and CT-2983 wondered if he’d failed the exercise, and then she nodded.  “Of course, in that case.  Let’s move.  Hopefully our passage will go unnoticed.”

CT-2983 thought of the squad and unit waiting for them and privately thought that it wasn’t possible.  Instead, he gripped his blaster tightly and nodded, “May it be so, General.”

He turned towards the exit of their little clearing, but paused as 82 shouted in surprise and a hard thump sounded.  “82?”  81 murmured.

“We have to go,” CT-2983 reminded 81.  “We don’t have much time.  CT-2982 will either meet us on the other side or he won’t.  We have our duty.”

81’s blank helmet regarded him for a long moment before he turned and stalked down the path.  Bralor followed with a single look at CT-2983.  CT-2983 waited until she was well past before he fell in.  They were barely two turns away from the camp before blaster fire erupted.  CT-2983 dove for a blind nearby, catching and dragging Bralor down with him.  81 dove behind a different blind just ahead of them and opened fire.

It didn’t take long for the situation to be clear.  Their enemy was positioned so about the only safe way to be was behind the blind and half laying down to keep from giving anything away to the man in the tree.  There were also some odd noises behind them that had CT-2983 wondering if they were actually surrounded.  Then he glanced ahead at 81, who was ducking back after making a shot.  81, who’s ability to improvise had gotten the whole unit in trouble on so many occasions.  His hand went to his belt, pulling free the small pack of explosives he’d been given.  He whistled, catching 81’s attention and threw up the package.  81 caught it, and looked at it in surprise, before looking back at him.

CT-2983 pointed to himself, and then at Bralor, then he pointed at 81 and circled his fingers around in the signal for a scout around.  81 clutched the package for a moment, then nodded slowly.  CT-2983 pointed at 81 and then at the door and then again at himself and Bralor.  81 was still for a long moment before he nodded again. 

CT-2983 turned to Bralor, who was watching him with carefully.  “When we get the mark, you move.  We need to get out of this place.  I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

Bralor frowned, “Will CT-2981 join us?”

“He’s going to try,” CT-2983 replied, “but he’s buying us time to get out of here.”

“We can’t leave him,” Bralor insisted.

“I don’t want to,” CT-2983 said, “but our orders are to get you out of here.  That’s what I’m going to do.”

There was an explosion.  CT-2983 grabbed Bralor’s arm and hauled her after him as he started run.  By the time they’d reached the first turn, Bralor was running with him, and when CT-2983 slowed to put himself between her back and the enemy, Bralor was sprinting ahead as fast as he could.  They cut around three corners before the path opened, showing a turn off out of the towers and blinds.  Bralor skidded to a stop, dropping behind a tree on the other side of the entrance.

CT-2983 glanced around the corner carefully and ducked back with a curse as the two cannons by the door opened fire.  He glanced over at Bralor, but the woman appeared to be unarmed, was no doubt meant to be unarmored for the scenario, and therefore of no help.  He edged his head out for another look, this time noting what type of cannon was waiting for them, their possible area of effect, and how many people were manning them.

The answer was that they were the heavy canons that were designed off the AT-AV weaponry, had a narrow area of effect, but a rapid fire, and there were two men on each canon.  CT-2983 checked his blaster charge, winced and replaced it, then looked at Bralor. 

“When they stop firing, you run,” he told her.

“What are you doing?”  Bralor demanded.

“My duty,” CT-2983 said.  He braced himself, the non-lethal blasts would still _hurt_ , lifted his gun into position and prepared himself to run.

Suddenly, two explosions had him scrambling to look.

CT-2981 stood on top of one of the cannons, looking like some kind of hero in a holo.

CT-2982 stood on top of the other, wreathed in smoking and laughing gleefully.

CT-2983 kept his body from betraying him as he felt a surge of relief, instead he gestured to Bralor, “General, we need to move.”

Bralor came out from behind her shelter, saw the two troopers on their cannons and stuttered to a stop before CT-2983 cleared his throat, then she jogged forward.  As soon as her foot touched the ramp, the door slid open and Pronto and 85 appeared in the doorway, both in red armor and grinning.

“End exercise,” announced one of the other trainers.  “Mission success.”

CT-2983 half closed his eyes in relief as they entered the highway, reaching up to take his helmet off to breath unfiltered air.  “CT-2983,” Bralor said.  “Was there a specific reason you lied to the General?”

CT-2983 swallowed, “Sir, I didn’t know where our enemy were, and we were down two men, and then three.  Allowing the General to stay at the camp would have been a failure.  My orders were to get the General out, and I judged a lie that could have been truth to be a lesser evil than punching the General unconscious and carrying her out.”

Bralor laughed, “Heard about CC-3636, I take it?”

“Yes sir,” CT-2983 replied with a nod.

“In that case, CT-2983, all I have to say is congratulations Sergeant CT-2983, may you send many enemies out in a blaze of glory.”

“Thank you, sir,” CT-2983 said.

“Now, _Genet_ Unit.”  CT-2983 jerked to attention along with his unit, as Jango Fett himself came up the corridor with a unit of clones behind him.  “It is my pleasure to introduce you to _Kebiin_ Unit.   _Kebiin_  Unit will be your partners in the newly commissioned _Kad_ Squad.  Welcome to the next stage of training, _Kad_ Squadron.”

CT-2983 saluted with the rest of the squadron and held it until Fett and Bralor had vanished.  Then he staggered as someone, 82, slapped him hard on the back. 

“Good job out there, Sergeant Blaze,” 81 said, “glad it’s you and not me.”

“Blaze?”  CT-2983 said.

“Like she said, we’re going to send our enemies out in a blaze of glory, with you to lead us.”  82 said simply.

CT-2983, Sergeant Blaze, tucked his helmet under his arm and grinned at the pair, “I’ll be interested to hear your thoughts on the matter in full detail, CT-2982, CT-2981.  Why don’t you report to the mess hall for KP to think on the matter for the next three days?”

“What, why?”  82 asked.  81 elbowed him, “Uh, sir?”

“So that you’ll be intimately familiar with the job before the next time you decide to disobey orders,” Blaze replied.  “That, and because I feel like it.”

A firm hand gripped Blaze’s shoulder and rubbed against the side of his neck, “Don’t let that go to your head, buddy,” a warm voice said.  “Wouldn’t want to see you get demoted before we saw our first simulation.”

Blaze glanced around, surprised, but recognizing CT-1993, “Yes sir Lieutenant.”

“Jet,” 1993 said, “Call me Jet.  You going to let them get away with calling you Blaze?”

“I kind of like it,” Blaze said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CT-2983 is Blaze  
> CC-1993 aka Jet is Ki-Adi Mundi's Commander in the Second Battle of Geonosis.
> 
> Genet- Gray  
> Resol- Six  
> Kebiin- Blue  
> Kad- Saber
> 
> Vod- brother
> 
>  
> 
> I made up my own version of how the clones are trained on Kamino. Short version, a unit is five clones with leadership rotating between them. When they reach a certain point in their training, a leader is promoted and they are mentored by an older/more experienced unit as a squad of ten. When they reach a specific point, the older unit is moved up to a different stage of training and the 'younger' unit is assigned a unit to mentor. The older units are trained with different units and individually before graduating into the ranks.  
> (Hope that makes sense?)


	2. Zippy Little Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CC-2976 and his unit make a name for themselves... sort of

Not all training could be accomplished in the training rooms on Kamino.  The sterile environment created by the longnecks was good for learning the basics, but there was no simulation that could accurately present the real world.  In light of that, their trainers arranged for a competition that allowed for the top squads to actually go on training sims on a relatively nearby deserted planet.  As the sameness of training on Kamino drug out, earning a chance for one of the coveted slots became for some an obsession.

CC-2976 wasn’t obsessed the way some in his unit was, but he was a newly promoted officer and part of his job was taking care of his men, so it was that he undertook some carefully planned, if clumsily executed sabotage and psychological warfare against their opponents to get them one of the slots.

Which is why he was half hanging out of a vent shaft outside the armory that housed CC-1010’s unit gear in the middle of the night when Jango Fett cleared his throat.  He’d been about to get back in the shaft and return to barracks when the noise had made him freeze.

“Attention,” Fett said softly.

CC-2976 held still for a moment, then dropped lightly into the hallway.  He knew it was Fett both because none of the clones wore anything like what this man wore, and none of the clones looked as old as Fett did.

“Who are you?”  Fett asked.

“CT-29,” CC-2976 began, then stopped, “Sorry sir, I mean C _C_ -2976.”

“New promotion, Lieutenant?”  Fett asked.

CC-2976 swallowed, “Yes sir.”

“So what would a newly promoted Lieutenant be doing out of barracks in the middle of the night, visiting someone else’s armory?”  Fett asked.

“Pranks, sir,” CC-2976 said after a moment, not quite able to meet Fett’s eyes.

“Pranks?  When your unit has a training mission tomorrow against CC-1010’s unit, who are, if I am not mistaken, undefeated for a third term and near guaranteed the final slot in the next off-world training mission,” Fett replied in a quietly reflective tone.  “I think the word you mean is sabotage.”

“N-no sir,” CC-2976, “I mean yes sir, but no sir.”

“Explain,” Fett said.

“I wouldn’t mess up their equipment like that,” CC-2976 said, “that would be worse than wrong.  I just, ah, arranged for a few of their detonators to… go off early.”  He hesitated, “A… friend… fixed the detonators’ powder to be of a non-standard color.  It’s not a hindrance, not _physically,_ sir.  Trainer Jennis calls it psychological warfare.”

Fett hummed a minute, “And how did you get the code to this armory?  Those are restricted.”

“I was owed a favor, sir.  Given the code reset happens tonight, it was judged a fair exchange.”  CC-2976 replied.

“So why do this?”  Fett asked, “A prank, no matter how well executed, isn’t going to impress your trainers.  If you weren’t caught here, you could never admit it.”

“For my unit,” CC-2976 replied.  “CC-1010’s unit is crossing lines in terms of arrogance.  Yanking them down a peg or two keeps it within bearable boundaries.”  He paused, “And the off-planet mission means a lot to them, and this is our last chance this term.”

“There’s always next term,” Fett replied.

“Is there sir?”  CC-2976 asked, then wished he could just shoot himself for questioning a superior officer.

“What do you mean?”  Fett asked.

CC-2976 hesitated.

“Speak plainly, CC-2976.  I will not punish you for speaking your mind this time.”

CC-2976 glanced at Fett’s eyes for a moment.  “It’s like this sir, most of the slots on these missions, they always go to the same units.  It’s not that they aren’t the best, because they are, but the rest of the units, they aren’t competing for six slots, it’s more like two, three if one of the top units gets injured.  It’s not enough to do well in training, because you can score high, get the victories, but it doesn’t feel like it matters, because the reward is always out of reach.  My men, they deserve a fair shot at a slot, but can’t get it.  That’s why I’m here.  Because I could lead my men in that sim tomorrow, and we’ll do everything right, get all the chances, but unless 1010’s unit scores under fifty and we can beat one twenty-five, we’re out, again.  My men, they can get to one twenty-five, we’ve done it before, but getting 1010’s unit under fifty is the difficult part.  Last time, we held them at fifty-two and it wasn’t enough.”

Fett made an interested sound.  “CC-2976, if your squad earns a hundred and thirty-six points, regardless of how CC-1010’s unit does, I want you to report to your trainer for a new schedule.  I believe you may benefit from some new lessons.  If you score under a hundred points, or you lose, then you _and your unit_ will report to the mess hall for the next five weeks for KP.  Now return to your barracks.”

“Yes sir,” CC-2976 saluted.  He glanced up at the open vent to judge his space, and leapt up, scrambling inside easily.  When he glanced down, Fett was gone.

Back at the barracks, 2978 was waiting for him.  “Well?”

CC-2976 walked over to his friend, “Jango Fett said if we didn’t win we have KP for the five weeks, but if we win, I’m getting new lessons.  I’m not sure which is worse.”

“We have to win,” 2978 replied, “this is our time.”

“Yeah,” CC-2976 agreed, “Our time.”

They win.

CC-2976 isn’t sure if they win because 1010, the most notorious vod about military grooming, was rattled by fighting in purple splattered armor, or if he’d finally managed to find a winning strategy.  But either way, when it was over and they met up in the hall outside the training room, CC-2976 felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin.

Jennis approached them with Jango Fett a few steps behind.  1010’s people salute, but seem calm about being around Fett, but CC-2976 knows the rest of his unit is tensing up as they salute and come to attention.

“CC-2976 and _Vorpan_ unit, congratulations, the last training slot is yours,” Jennis announced.  “You have an hour to grab your gear and get to the transport. Dismissed.”

It took a moment to sink in, then CC-2976 took a deep, shaky breath, saluted and led his unit away.  They barely managed to get to their barracks before 2977, who had nearly broken down when they’d missed the last cutoff, yelled in celebration.

“I thought we were dead,” 2978 muttered to CC-2976.

“You’re telling me,” CC-2976 said as he began stripping off his armor, intent on at least pulling on new blacks.  He’d been hoping for enough time to catch some sleep, but there was too much to do.  He wondered if they should plan to bring survival gear, trying to remember what he’d seen past squads bring along.

“Attention!”

The unit fell in at the ends of their barracks as CC-2224 came in the room.

“Sir,” CC-2976 said.

“Congratulations on making the last slot,” 2224 said, “I came by to make sure you knew what to bring.”

“Thank you, sir,” CC-2976 murmured.

“Supplies, survival gear, and weapons outside your personal gear are already on the ship,” 2224 said, “you are responsible for your grooming needs, extra clothing, and personal weapons.  You won’t need anything other than your commlinks in terms of technology.  This isn’t a vacation, it’s a mission.  We’ll be debriefed when we land, so get your gear and get to the ship.  Lieutenant, a word.”

“Yes sir,” CC-2976 replied and 2224 into the hallway.

“Thank you,” 2224 said when the door shut.

“I’m sorry?” CC-2976 asked, startled.

“1010 needed to be pulled down a peg.  _Werda_ tries, but 1010’s a good strategist when he focuses and it’s not easy.”

“Thank you, sir,” CC-2976 said, ducking his head.

“Call me Cody,” 2224 offered, “at least, when we’re not on mission.  We’re both officers after all.”

“Right,” CC-2976 said, wondering if he’d ever be that casual about his rank.  “I don’t- I haven’t-“

“No shame in that,” Cody said.  “You’ll pick your name when you’re ready.  Now, I’ll leave you to get packed.”

CC-2976 nodded slightly, wishing he could get some rest to make up for what he’d lost, but instead he had fresh blacks to pull on, armor to check over, and a bag of personal items to pull together.  He hoped there would be a possibility to rest on the ship, but the trip was too short for him to really relax.

Not with Fett prowling around them like a hunter stalking prey.  CC-2976 wasn’t sure why Fett had let him go the night before, but it kept him on edge whenever their progenitor got close.

The training world was a temperate place, more water than land by about two thirds, with several different climates if the different shades of green and brown were any indication.  They landed during the continent’s night cycle, at the foot of a high mountain range, with a seemingly endless grassland stretching to the East.  CC-2976 couldn’t help it, he stared.  He’d seen holos of course, seen the simulations of different environments, but all of the technology the longnecks used was nothing compared to the vibrant night sky of this small world.

Kamino wasn’t always rain and storms, although it felt like it around Tipoca City, but nothing he’d seen on the rare clear night matched the endless field of stars he now saw.  CC-2976 barely had enough awareness to move himself and his men out of the way of the ship, they were all looking around, taking in the world around them.

“It’s not like the holograms, is it?”

CC-2976 turned to find Cody standing close by with some of his unit.  “It’s amazing,” he said softly.

“Yeah.  Come on, it’s time to find out what today’s exercise is all about.  You think this is something, when the sun comes up, then you’ll have something to really look at.”  Cody turned away to where the other four units were crowding around Fett.  It was a little less embarrassing to have been caught staring when CC-2976 spotted another unit staring up and around like he had been.  He thought it was CC-3636’s unit, and when he saw that there were six in the unit and not five, he knew.

Everyone knew about the 3636 pair, that they had held onto each other longer than most pairs ever did.  Well, CT-2979 said that 1010 had been a pair and that’s why he was so obsessed with everything, but 2979 always had oddball theories and supposed rumors.  CC-2976 figured it was because 2979 was a pilot and would probably end up swapping to a squad of pilots sooner or later.

“Listen up,” Jennis called from the center of the group.  “Today’s exercise is in two parts.  Each unit is being handed a capsule.”

CC-2976 turned to find one of 2224’s unit handing over a capsule about the size of his hand and colored a deep green.

“The color of your capsule indicates who your unit will be going up against.  Inside one of them is a clue.  The unit with the clue is to use that clue to find their way to six additional clues that will lead them to a flag that has been hidden in the mountains.  They are to find the flag and bring it back here.  The unit with no clue is to get the flag from the other unit and bring it back here.  First unit back with the flag is the winner as long as nobody in the second unit dies.  If you bring back the wrong flag, you lose.  You can leave camp when the sun clears the horizon.  There will be caff and snacks waiting here, and supplies are located in way stations that are marked on your map.  There are supplies for two units in each marked waystation, as indicated by the colored bin you’ll find inside.  You’ll have three days to complete this exercise.”

Fett regarded the group for a moment, then turned and walked away.  CC-2976 wondered if he’d imagined Fett had been looking right at him.

“So what’s the plan, Lieutenant?”  2978 asked softly.

“I’m going to find the caff,” CC-2976 replied, glancing at 2978, “make sure we have the supplies we’re going to need up there.  77, find out who we’re up against, and then ask one of the other units for suggestions.  79, keep an eye on whoever we’re up against, if they do anything different I want to know about it.  TZ, see if the trainers will tell you anything about the area that the other units won’t mention.  Once you know what you know, get some food and join me.  We won’t be heading out at the first opportunity, we need a strategy.”

There were quick salutes, and they split up.  CC-2976 hesitated long enough to see TZ, or CT-3000, approach Jennis, before heading around one of the gunships to find a pair of the support clones setting out pitchers of caff.  Fett was there, pouring up a cup for himself and CC-2976 had to almost force himself to walk over and claim one of the disposable cups.

“You all right, Lieutenant?”  Fett asked.

“Didn’t get enough sleep,” CC-2976 admitted after a moment.  “I’m still optimal sir.”

Fett grunted, then pulled something out of his pocket and offered it to CC-2976, it was a foil packet, the sort that some medications came in.  “Stem tabs,” Fett said, “you might want them later, it’s going to be a long day.”

CC-2976 took the package and tucked it away.

“Be careful with those,” Fett added, “they’ll kick like a bantha if you aren’t careful.”

“Yes sir,” CC-2976 replied.  He pulled together caff for the rest of his unit, and accepted a tray from one of the clones.  Caff in hand, he moved around the ship enough to see his people following orders, catching their attention as he headed for the second gun ship.  He could get a few minutes’ downtime before the others joined him at least.

The sunrise was beautiful in a way it wasn’t on Kamino.  CC-2976 paused long enough to admire it while the other units began to move out.  His unit stayed with him, all of them relaxed in a way the other units weren’t.  Once the last of the other vod’e vanished, TZ turned to him, “What’s the plan, Lieutenant?”

CC-2976 smiled at his vod’ika, “We’ll move out in a minute.  Get something to eat, check your gear.  Who are we up against?”

“Captain 2224,” 2977 replied.

“Did you happen to get a look at their clue?”  CC-2976 asked 2979.

“Didn’t understand it,” 2979 replied, “think it was about water.”

“Captain Cody,” CC-2976 mused, “all right, that makes things easier.”

“Sir?”  2978 asked.

“Trust me,” CC-2976 replied, “and eat if you need to.”

“Sir, may I remind you that the last time I trusted you blindly, I ended up naked in the mess hall?”  2978 replied.

“Every time I ask you to trust me, you remind me,” CC-2976 said.

“I haven’t ended up naked in the mess again, have I?”  2978 retorted.

“Point,” CC-2976 said, “go eat.”  He turned to retrieve his bucket, only to stop when someone cleared his throat.

“Jennis said I should leave you to your plots, but I have to know, are you planning on leaving any time soon?”  Fett asked.

“Soon as the men eat, sir,” CC-2976 replied, turning to regard the man.  “Didn’t see a reason to hurry them.”

Fett gave him an odd look at walked away.

Once they were in the woods and away from the trainers, CC-2976 turned to 2977, “What was the clue?”

“What runs, but never walks, often murmurs but never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?” 2977 replied.  “It’s a river.”

“There’s a river on that map they gave us,” TZ offered.

“Who has the map?”  CC-2976 asked.

“I do,” 2979 replied, producing the flimsy, “according to this,” he hesitated.

“North is that way,” TZ said, pointing south.

“That’s south,” CC-2976 said, “the sun rises east and sets west.  To go north, at sun rise, the sun should be on the right.”

“Right,” 2979 said, adjusting both the map and his stance.  Then he pointed, “River’s that way.”

They headed for the river, finding it in short order.  CC-2976 sent them up and down the river in twos, while he leaned against a tree and contemplated the stim-tabs given to him by Jango Fett.

Except for caff, the clones weren’t given stimulants.  Only three of the trainers were even rumored to carry them, and while each clone was given some to try during the end of their training, CC-2976 knew he wasn’t even close to that moment.  On the one hand, Fett himself had given him the pills, but on the other hand he knew they weren’t allowed because training was about your natural body, not what chemicals you could shove into them.

CC-2976 knew of battle-ready troopers who had sworn off even caff after trying the stimulants.  They said that they didn’t like what stims did to their mind, and what happened after they wore off, but he was so tired.  He’d barely gotten any sleep at all given the time invested in his so-called prank, and even then, he’d poured everything into the training sim, desperate to give his men this experience.

A rustle had CC-2976 putting away the stem-tabs and looked up to find 2977 and TZ coming back with matching grins.

“Found them?”  CC-2976 asked.

“We’ve got the clue,” 2977 announced.

“Let’s find the other two,” CC-2976 said as he pulled out the map, “and you two figure out where we’re going.”

“You don’t want to?”  2977 asked.

“You heard the clue, not me,” CC-2976 replied, trying not to yawn.

The trip up river lasted far longer than he thought it should have, and when they found 2978 and 2979, CC-2976 was regretting his decision to wait on the stim-tabs.

“We need to go here,” TZ announced, pointing at the map.

According to the topography, their next stop was in a box canyon across the river.  “Let’s see if we can beat them there,” CC-2976 announced.

“Beat them there?”  2977 asked.

“Sure,” CC-2976 replied, “there’s no rule against us getting the clues first.  The rule is getting the wrong flag, right?”

The grin that they shared was the sort that any parental sort would recognize as nothing but trouble.

They set off for the box canyon, and CC-2976 took the time to slip a stim-tab in his mouth while they walked.  He was a little disappointed when he didn’t instantly feel charged with energy, but he did feel less tired by the time they found the box canyon, and the small green box on a ledge in a niche.

They crowded around it to pull out the next clue, which essentially gave them instructions to the top of a waterfall up the river they’d crossed.  When they were done, CC-2976 started to put the box back where they found it, but stopped.

“Lieutenant?”  2977 asked.

CC-2976 walked across the box canyon and found a different niche and put the box there.  Then he turned around, “Can’t make it too easy on them, after all.”

Grins were exchanged again and they headed for the next clue.

As they were following the river, they came around a bend to find another unit chatting beside the river, arms waving wildly.  CC-2976 hesitated, but then realized it was the 3636s and their unit, not Captain Cody.

“Having fun?”  He called as they approached, causing one of the 3636s to stumble and fall into the river.

“Well, now I am,” the other one said, staring at his twin.

“How’s your hunt going?”  CT-3638 asked as they watched the 3636 struggle out of the water.

“Well enough,” CC-2976 replied, “and yours?”

“We just saw a bear,” the soaked 3636 announced as he stepped up beside his brother, “it was awesome.  They really do catch fish in their mouth.”

“Keep falling in the water and you will too,” the other 3636 replied dryly.

“I wouldn’t mind being a bear.”

“Good, great, you’re Bexar,” the dry 3636 announced, “we’ve got to get going, remember?”

CC-2976 rose up on his toes as a new idea hit, “Say, are you guys hunting clues or tracking?”

“Hunting,” Bexar replied.

“Did you happen to save any of your clues?”  CC-2976 asked.

“Yeah,” 3636 replied, “why?”

“Can I have one?”  CC-2976 asked, “I have an idea.”

It took some persuading, and CC-2976 ended up promising a few more favors than he really wanted, but they left the other unit behind with one of their clues in hand.

“Now what are you planning?” 2978 asked warily.

“Nothing really,” CC-2976 replied, “I mean, nothing that will really affect us, but you said you wanted to win, right?”

“Right,” 2978 said slowly.

“This,” and CC-2976 held up the clue, “Is part of how we’re going to do it.”

He left the 3636’s clue behind in the box for Captain Cody’s unit before they moved away long enough to figure out their next clue.  This one definitely took the longest as they struggled to match clues to their map.  By the time they were done, CC-2976 was barely able to stand still, he felt a weird buzzing under his skin as they argued, and he finally had to dart around the group a few times to try to settle down.

When they moved on, CC-2976 found himself relegated to rear guard because he kept moving too fast for the others.  They were clearly getting tired, and wanted a break before they finished the hunt, but CC-2976 couldn’t stop.  He wanted them to set a record, all they had to do was find the flag.

They found the final clue just as the sun finished setting, and CC-2976 relented enough to allow them to find a waystation to stop and eat.  As for himself, he could barely stomach a single ration bar, instead darting around the waystation and then outside, eager to get moving and finish the hunt.

Finally, his unit was ready to go, all of them seemingly energized from the break.  They actually passed Captain Cody’s unit on their way to the flag.  Captain Cody looked frustrated and his men dejected as they sat outside a waystation with their clues spread out about them.  CC-2976’s unit snickered as they went past.

The flag had been place out on the plains, where a creek branched away from the river they’d crossed and followed all day.  It had been tied into a tree, and with a bit of hard work, they had the flag in hand.

Although CC-2976 felt fine, he knew that his unit was tired.  “Do you guys want to camp out here and walk in there tomorrow?”  He offered.

The negatives were nearly violent. 

“Let’s go now,” 2978 said, “They’ll think we’ve given up, but then we can show off our flag.”

“It’ll be warm meals and decent sleep,” TZ pointed out.

“Let’s go,” CC-2976 said.

The camp was where they’d left it, with the instructors sitting around a small fire.  CC-2976’s unit was almost in the camp boundaries when an arm went around his throat, and the whine of blasters cycling filled the air.

“Lieutenant CC-2976 and unit returning to camp,” CC-2976 managed to say after a moment.

“Injured?” The familiar tone of Jango Fett asked.

“No sir,” CC-2976 replied.

“Giving up then,” Jennis said, sounding disgusted.

“No sir,” CC-2976 replied.

“Then why are you here?”  Fett demanded.

2978 held up the flag, “We brought back our flag, sir.”

There was a long moment of silence and CC-2976 tried not to fidget.

“You didn’t start with a clue,” Fett said.

“Didn’t mean we couldn’t find the flag, sir,” CC-2976 managed before the arm on his throat tightened.

“How?”  Jennis demanded.

“Heard them read the first two clues sir,” TZ said, “used that to find the third on our own.  Lieutenant said it didn’t make sense to let them do all the work when we were just as capable.”

“Wasn’t against the rules either, sir,” 2977 pointed out.

The arm around CC-2976’s throat loosened and he turned to find it was one of the clones on the support staff.  The clone gave him a nasty smile before stepping away and vanishing.

“You took the flag before the other unit found it?”  Jennis said finally.

“Yes sir,” the five of them said in unison.

There was silence for a long moment, then the instructors lowered their weapons as Jennis snorted with laughter.  “All right, come grab a patch of ground and get some shut eye.  We’ll discuss your tactics in the morning.”

CC-2976 put his bedroll out with the others, but the idea of lying down and sleeping made him uneasy, so he found himself slipping quietly around the camp, practicing stealth maneuvers under the occasionally watchful eye of the support staff.

“Can’t sleep?”  Fett asked, stepping off one of the shuttles.

“Took one of your stem tabs” CC-2976 admitted.  “Can’t stay still.  But it helped.”

“Think you’ll want to keep using them?”  Fett asked.

“No sir,” CC-2976 shook his head, “maybe when the Republic calls us to arms for something, but not on Kamino.  Not enough space there.”

Fett was silent for a long moment, then said, “Try running the circumference of the camp for a while.  Not your top speed, given the lighting, but a solid jog, done enough, should help.”

“I’ll do that,” CC-2976 replied, “Thank you.”  He saluted Fett, who responded in kind, and then started jogging the perimeter.

The pills wore off before a second shift change and CC-2976 was almost ready to cry when he settled into his bedroll. 

“Everything alright sir?” 2978 asked softly.

“It’s fine,” CC-2976 replied.  “Go back to sleep, 78.”

“Good night,” 2978 replied, then paused, “Zippy.”

“What?”  CC-2976 hissed.

“Jennis called you that, and we took a vote,” 2978 replied.

CC-2976 groaned, “We’ll talk about this in the morning, 78.”

“If you say so, sir.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a great debate about Clone twins, in the end I decided to go with it. There are two characters with the number 3636, our familiar and somewhat beloved Wolffe, and an unknown CT-3636 in the 501st. Therefore, in my head, twins have the same number, a concept I will explore in my side series about Wolffe and Plo. (Because it says something about who Wolffe is, okay?)
> 
> Secondly, CT-3636, the NOT Wolffe twin, is named Bexar, it is pronounced Bear, the X is silent.
> 
> Third: I don't actually remember my third point, but there was supposed to be one. Maybe I'll remember it later.


	3. Vode An

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CT-798 doesn't have a name, or a unit, or a batch among the troopers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Chip, who takes on the name Chip in Trial Run.

CT-798 is mostly convinced that if the cadets on Kamino stopped gossiping then the walls would collapse.  He’d heard all the rumors, their repeats, the grossly warped versions, and he kept his head up and his eyes front.

It had been easier when there had been more of them, more undesirables from a misbegotten batch created by creatures who thought they could play God only to find out that it was hard to achieve perfection from an imperfect source.

“That’s CT-798,” someone whispered as 798 got in line in the mess hall.

“What’s his squad?”

That was one of the newbies, just kicked up from elementary education, and learning about the legends of the cadets.

“Doesn’t have one.  Not even a unit.  The whole batch was declared defective except him.  CT-2311 says he’s probably going to wash out too.”

“So he’s the oldest of the cadets or something?”

“Probably.”

798 collected his food and turned, seeking out the quartet he was assigned to now.  They looked young, midway through level one training and down a man unexpectedly.  They resented him, he knew, for replacing their 3524, but if they wanted to prove themselves they had to accept him.

3523, the unit’s leader, glowered as 798 took a seat at their table.  798 smiled pleasantly back before he began to eat.  The children could try to air the unit’s dirty laundry in the mess hall for the entertainment of the masses, but 798 wasn’t going to play that game.  He’d been around too long, knew what happened when cadets found someone entertaining and the trainers were off duty.

Every time a new cadet batch started first tier training, he felt a little more disconnected from the vod’e.  Every time a batch graduated to the combat troops and he wasn’t, he was forgotten a little bit more.

Still, 798 knew his role among the cadets, and he’d performed it well.  “Unit’s got a training exercise in the morning,” he announced, not looking at the quartet.  “Standard survival crawl scenario.”

Silence met his comment.

“I’ll see you in the ready room,” 798 said, as his stomach clenched and he forced himself to eat, knowing he wouldn’t get a second chance to eat the meal.  Once he’d made decent inroads on the food, he gave up, policing his tray and heading out.  He paused once he was out of sight of the open door and listened.

3523 snorted, “I don’t care what anyone says.  He’s never going to replace Packer.”

798 wished he could step in there and tell the kid a few things about life.  Losing their brother in an actual training accident was bad, but they were going to have to learn to work with others, even people they weren’t sure about.  Even an eleven-year-old cadet who should have been doing battle sims and training with the battle ready troops instead of latching onto unit after unit for one reason or another.

Absently, 798 saluted a pair of trainers passing by as he considered his options.  He could go to the cadets’ rec center and beat one of his ridiculously high scores, he could try his hand at meditation again, or he could do something else.

After watching a pair of the troopers walk by and ignore him completely, 798 turned to a concealed hatchway and slipped through.  Once the door shut, his shoulders drooped and he sighed.

Out there, he was the cadet who was too old, who should have been a trooper already.  The clone who shuffled between units when they faced a loss.  Once that door shut, 798 was a completely different clone.  No longer the trainer’s tool for helping units deal with loss, but a clone in his own right.  No longer a batch-less brother who could be safely ignored if not outright belittled in his hearing.

“Mando?”

798 smiled as 99 came around the corner, “Hey vod.  How was your day?”

“Same as always,” 99 said, “cleaning up after the cadets and all.  Heard you got put in with 3523’s unit.”

“Yeah,” 798 said, “come on, let’s go see what everyone else is up to.”

“Sure,” 99 said.  “Don’t suppose you’ve got an exercise with them coming up?”

“Tomorrow morning,” 798 replied, “crawling around like sand worms.”

“Good,” 99 said.  “3523’s team needs a lesson about blaster care.”

“Are they breaking them?”  798 asked.

“They aren’t replacing the battery packs,” 99 replied.

798 hissed, “And you put the blasters back without doing anything?”

“That’s the order,” 99 said.  “Not my job to fix that sort of problem.  Sorry if that affects you.”

798 snorted, “I need the challenge, 99.  Although if it’s one of those everyone lives scenarios, I might just get myself shot to spite them.”

“Sounds like we’re going to need good seats,” 99 said as they stepped into the maintenance barracks.

Five figures were sprawled around the room, seven survivors of a batch gone wrong.  99, who hadn’t even made training because of the strange join diseases that had twisted his body until he couldn’t even do basic fitness.  Rogue, who’s agile and strategic mind was caught and held in a body damaged in a shuttle crash, who still could create training scenarios that even the best struggled with.  Sunny, who struggled to learn what everyone else absorbed in minutes, but who had picked up hand to hand like it was instinct.  Logan, who had picked up every dirty trick the trainers showed him, but who couldn’t read because the letters danced around and refused to settle down. Grief, who had the same joint disease that had crippled 99, only not as severe yet.  Storm, who hadn’t been right in the head since the same crash that had damaged Rogue, but could remember complex nav coordinates and recited them with little prompting.

And him, called Mando by his batch, but CT-798 to the vod’e, the only member of the batch to survive training.

“You’re doing the sandworm tomorrow, I hear,” Rogue announced, not looking up from the complex game of chess he was playing with Grief.

“Yeah,” 798 agreed, “new unit to break in.  Got any hints for me?”

“The floor is lava?”  Rogue suggested.  “Seriously, it’s the same thing it ever is.  Now come save your brother from humiliation.”

“What’s the problem?”  798 asked as he settled beside Grief on his bunk.

“Well, the defeat is inevitable,” Grief said as he rubbed his left hand, “I just don’t want it to be humiliating.”

798 reached over to pull Grief’s hand into his own, messaging the twisting knuckles with firm but soft hands.  “All right, I’ll play, but I want to get some training done as well.  3523, well, _kaysh mirsh solus_ , but he’s also considered a prodigy at hand to hand.”

“I want to know everything you can tell me about Lieutenant CC-2976,” Rogue said.  “I heard he beat Fett’s off world training exercise.”

“He obliterated it,” 798 replied as he made his first move.  “He’s a sneaky little brat, apparently.  Not only did he beat out the other team to the flag despite not having the first clue, but he tripped the other team, CC-2224’s unit, so badly by moving and switching clues that Fett had to go rescue CC-2224’s unit at the end of day three.  Also, the 3636s survived another test from the longnecks.”

“Thought I saw those two,” 99 said, “but I don’t clean Armory 36A.”

In a few hours, 798 would have to go back to the cold and silent barracks of his unit.  He’d have to fold away the parts of him that didn’t fit, swallow back his pride and pain, and pretend that he was just an older clone who has been around for far too long.  But for now, he was Mando, the only clone trooper of the 776 batch, spending time with his vod in the barracks they called home.  The closest thing he’d ever had to a safe home, with Grief dozing on his shoulder with the pain easing, 99 pulling the bed sheets neatly, and the others going about the necessary chores of barracks life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kaysh mirsh solus means "He's an idiot" but directly translates as "his brain cells are lonely."
> 
> Vode an means brothers all.
> 
>  
> 
> So, Chip's whole batch of 25 didn't make it through training, but they call him "Mando" or "Commando" because Chip did. He works with the trainers, helping units who lost members adjust to working with newcomers by faking that he's still a cadet himself. (He's not, he's a full trooper, but he's working with the trainers.)
> 
> Yes, 99 here is the 99 who died at the Battle of Kamino in S3. I just don't see the Kaminoans letting a defect be brought to full term. But having him come down with some joint disease would be a different story.


	4. Swooping In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CT-2978 gets one last night before his transfer.

CT-2987 slid out of the starfighter simulator fighting a grin.  He’d definitely beat his previous record this time.  Maybe he’d even managed to set a record for the other pilot candidates to beat.  As he cleared the door and glanced around, he spotted Zip standing at one end of the simulator bay, nodding at their trainer, Fenn Rau, who seemed to be lecturing him.

Zip didn’t look to upset though, although Rau had that look that said he was giving a cadet the lecture about failing out.  CT-2978 already knew that Zip wasn’t upset about _that._   While Zip could handle the simulations well enough, and could probably handle a shuttle if he had to, Zip wasn’t a pilot.  He wasn’t like CT-2979, who probably dreamed about flying, and he wasn’t like 78 himself, who really liked flying starfighters.

Rau straightened up and Zip saluted, then said something which made Rau nod.  Zip headed over to sit on one of the empty benches used by cadets waiting for a chance at the simulators.  Rau spotted CT-2978 and started over, eyes tracking up to the board with his scores.

“Sir,” CT-2978 said with a salute.

“Better,” Rau said shortly.  He looked down at CT-2978 for a moment contemplatively, “I would like you to consider formally transferring into the pilot cadet unit, CT-2978.”

Even if he’d dreamed of this moment, this offer, when it came, CT-2978 was stunned speechless.

“You will have to leave your current unit,” Rau said, “but if CT-2977 and CT-2979 continue to show the promise they have, I doubt it will be for long.”

CT-2978 swallowed, then saluted, “Sir, it would be an honor to be a pilot cadet.  Thank you for the opportunity.”

Rau nodded once and saluted him back, “Report to the pilot cadet barracks tomorrow at 0700.  You won’t need to bring uniforms; new ones will be issued.”

“Understood, sir,” CT-2978 replied quickly, his heart pounding.  One more night with his vod, and then it was off to uncharted territory.

“Dismissed,” Rau said, he paused, “you may wait with CC-2976 for the rest of your unit if you wish.”

“Thank you, sir,” CT-2978 said.  He kept himself in the calm, measured pace of a cadet only by sheer force of will, dropping himself into the seat next to Zip with a grin.

“What’s got you happy?”  Zip asked.

“Rau offered me a pilot cadet position,” CT-2978 said, almost bouncing in his seat.  “I made it Zip!”

Zip smiled, “Hey, good for you!  I knew you could do it.  Won’t be long before you’ll be swooping in to save my hide, huh?”

“We’re brothers, of course I will,” CT-2978 replied, letting a bit of confidence bleed out.  He did keep an eye to Rau though.  That one had a tendency of spotting confidence and tearing it to shreds.  “He said that 77 and 79 might also get tapped.”

“Leaving me and TZ with the grounders, huh?”  Zip said, “At least me, Rau just told me that I wasn’t going any further as a pilot.”

“Well, you’re a better leader on the ground,” CT-2978 with a little shrug, “that’s your strength.”  He glanced at the simulators, and the wall between them and the practice ships, “I think this might be mine.”

Zip reached over and gripped his shoulder, “It is, I can tell.”

CT-2978 straightened up as one of the other simulators opened, “There’s 79,” he said.

Zip glanced up, “Oh, I hope Oddball gets in.”

“Oddball?” CT-2978 asked as he watched Rau approach CT-2979.

“If I do nothing else here,” Zip said, “I want my legacy to be his name.”

CT-2978 snorted, “Dude, I heard that there’s a trainer dedicated to inventing training exercises just for you, you have a legacy.”

Zip shook his head, “Names mean something.”

CT-2979’s shoulders drooped as Rau finished talking, and he saluted carefully before trudging over to join them.

“Well?” Zip asked, shifting over and patting the bench between him and CT-2978.

“Rau says I need to get my scores up,” CT-2979 replied, “we’ve only got three more tests before selection.  I’m never going to get in.”

“Sure you will,” CT-2978 said, “you can do this, you just have to remember not to panic on the way down.”

“It’s hard,” CT-2979 said, “there’s always so much to pay attention to.”

“Oddball,” Zip said, putting his arm around CT-2979, “look, when it comes to the fight, unless you’re a leader, all you have to worry about is the guy in front of you.  You blow him up and you move on to the next one.  That’s all you have to do, just worry about the fighter in front of you until there are no more fighters or you get killed.  I know you can do this.  Remember how you thought you’d never make it on the obstacle course?  It’s the same thing, worry about the now, not the later.”

“Hey,” CT-2978 said, “if the hall’s open tonight, let’s book some simulators and do paired runs.  I’ll help you.”

“Tonight?” CT-2979 asked.

“Yeah,” CT-2978 replied.

“He’s getting transferred to pilot cadet,” Zip said, sounding proud.

CT-2978 glanced at his friend, because Zip sounded almost forced when he said that, like he desperately wanted to say something else.  But Zip was smiling as he rubbed CT-2978’s shoulder, there was an odd kindness to his gestures that CT-2978 followed with his eyes for a moment before focusing on CT-2979 again.  The poor kid looked gutted, like he’d expected to come out on top in the class and ending up relegated to waiting for more tests to confirm Rau’s obvious opinion on the matter.

“That’s good,” CT-2979 said, trying to give CT-2978 a smile, “congratulations.”

CT-2978 leaned against his brother, “Thanks.  You’ll be one of us soon, I know it.”

CT-2979 nodded slightly, then he turned to Zip “Did you call me Oddball?”

“I’ve been calling you Oddball,” Zip replied dryly.  “You, with your oddball facts and fun personality.  It’s perfect for you.”

CT-2979 tilted his head a moment, considering it.

“Hey guys,” CT-2977 said.

“Hey vod,” CT-2978 said, patting the seat beside him.

CT-2977 sat down, sliding over as CT-2978 raised his arm, and then face planted into CT-2978’s shoulder.

“That good, eh?”  CT-2978 asked softly as he let his arm wrap around his brother’s shoulders, hand rubbing his far shoulder rhythmically.

“Crashed into a building,” CT-2977 replied, “lost track of my surroundings chasing the last target.”

“Did you at least get him?”  CT-2978 asked.

“Of course,” CT-2977 replied.  “But, I have to come back tomorrow for the next round.”

CT-2978 squeezed his shoulder, “Would you be mad if I said I got in today?”

CT-2977 sat up enough to look at him, “Why would I be?  I was surprised you were held back this long, you’re the best of us.”

“Not the best overall though,” CT-2798 replied, a little bitterly.

“You will be,” CT-2977 said, “I know it.”

“Hey!”

“Yes Lieutenant?”  CT-2978 asked, turning to look at Zip.

Zip rolled his eyes, “TZ left already, let’s get back to the barracks.  We need to clean up for dinner.”

“Right,” CT-2977 said, “let’s go.”

“When do you report?”  CT-2979 asked.

“Tomorrow, 0700,” CT-2978 replied.

“One last night,” CT-2979 said with a grin.  He paused “Oh, and Zip’s right, I think I like being called Oddball.”

“Nice to meet you,” CT-2977 said cheerfully.  “I’m glad you like your name.”

They shifted around as they left the room, with Zip falling in beside CT-2978 and Oddball walking behind them with CT-2977.

“You okay?”  Zip asked, glancing at CT-2978.

“Mostly,” CT-2978 replied, “we’re going to have to make sure we keep in touch.  I want all the details about your training exercises.”

“No worries,” Zip said, “I’ll have to track you down just to complain.  You know TZ doesn’t care about that sort of thing.”

“Yeah,” CT-2978 replied.

There was a clone waiting outside their barracks with a small bag at his feet.  Zip glanced at CT-2978, who shook his head slightly.

“Cadet,” Zip said as they all stopped walking.

“Lieutenant,” the clone saluted, “I’m CT-798.  Trainer Jennis instructed me to inform you that I’ve been transferred to your unit temporarily.”

“I’m not even gone yet!”  CT-2978 blurted out.

Zip reached over and put a hand on his bicep, a silent signal to hold on.  “They ordered you here tonight?”

CT-798 nodded, “The unit I was assigned to got back to full strength today, so I got transferred.”

CT-2978 shifted uneasily, cadets didn’t transfer between units often.

“And it’s temporary,” Zip said.

“That’s what Trainer Jennis told me,” CT-798 said.  “I- uh, I heard that there’s another unit that they’re going to merge with yours after the pilot testing is over, so I’ll probably be transferred after that.”

“Okay,” Zip nodded, “the problem is that CT-2978 doesn’t have to report until 0700 tomorrow.  We were planning on a last night together.”

“That’s fine,” CT-798 said, “I can… I need to be _here_ for the light’s out inspection, but I have somewhere else I can sleep.”

“I’m not saying you have to go sleep in a closet,” Zip said.

CT-798 shook his head, “No, I promise, I know where I can find a bed.”

Zip crossed his arms for a moment, staring at the newcomer, then he jerked his head slightly, “If trouble comes out of this, you’d best be prepared for an extra two weeks of KP on top of what the trainers give us.”

“Sir yes sir,” CT-798 said, looking oddly happy.

“I’m Zip, this is CT-2978, CT-2977, and Oddball, our fifth is TZ.”  Zip added.

“Yeah, we may have met,” CT-798 said with a slight shrug.  He bent to pick up his bag, “If I could leave this inside for now?  I need to get to the archives before supper.”

“Go ahead,” Zip said.

They stepped into the barracks behind CT-798 and CT-2978 could hear TZ before they were through the door.

“I told you to stay out!”

“TZ!”  Zip snapped, “Lock it down, Trooper.”

“But-“ TZ began.

“Now,” Zip said in a cold tone.

CT-2978 shivered.  Zip didn’t use his rank in the barracks, in exchange for obedience in the field, he was pretty relaxed about how they addressed him in private.  But there were moments when Zip shifted slightly, and spoke in that cold, soft voice, and that was the Lieutenant, their commanding officer.  This wasn’t Zippy, their crazy brother who thought his way out of traps and corners by finding the loopholes, this was Lieutenant CT-2976, their CO who expected obedience first and explanations second.

This was the LT that CT-2978 knew was going to make it all the way up to Commander, who was _his_ commanding officer, second only to the _Jettise_ they would one day follow.

“Sir,” TZ said softly, falling to attention.

“CT-798 is a temporary transfer to the unit,” Zip said, “because CT-2978 has been transferred to the pilot cadet corps and reports there at 0700.  I know that change will be unsettling, but that does not excuse your behavior.  Take the next week to reflect on that matter while you do KP.  CT-798 is our brother as much at CT-2978, and is to be treated accordingly.”

CT-2978 glanced over at CT-798, who looked a bit wild eyed as he stared at Zip.  It was like he was stunned that someone had spoken up on his behalf.  Had none of their brothers spoken up for him, ever?

“Yes sir,” TZ said with a salute.  He turned to CT-798, “I apologize for my behavior.  The Lieutenant’s right.”

CT-798 nodded slightly, “You’re forgiven.  It’s not the first time someone’s gotten upset by me being transferred in.”  He turned to Zip, “If I may sir, the archives.”

“Dismissed,” Zip said.  CT-798 tucked his bag under the bunk by the door and bolted out.

Once the door shut behind him, Oddball whistled softly.

“Yes, Oddball?”  Zip asked.

“No, it’s just, 798’s been a loner since his unit all went service corps,” Oddball said.  “I’d say maybe a third of the officers would stand up for him really.  In fact, I think CT-798 is the oldest cadet we have.  Fox’s unit would be next oldest.”

“That’s probably the first time an officer punished a cadet for treating him poorly in a while,” CT-2978 said softly, “he looked floored by it.”

“They should have,” Zip said, “he’s a brother, same as any of us.”  He looked around the barracks for a moment, “But we’ll deal with that tomorrow.  Tonight, we’ll celebrate CT-2978’s transfer to the pilot corps, where he will learn the fine art of swooping in to save our lives.”

“You keep saying that and I might just make it my name,” CT-2978 said dryly.  He’d probably regret it at some point, but CT-2978 figured that there were worst names than Swoop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CT-798 aka Chip, definitely goes to crash with Rogue and the others. They don't get caught.
> 
> I'm sorry, but I couldn't find any suggested options for alternatives to KP, so I'm going to have to reflect on that and see if I couldn't find some similar 'patrols' for them for those minor infractions. (Suggestions are welcome too!)


	5. Call to Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CT-2462, Screech, medic in training and clone cadet, on his no-good, very bad, horrible day. (Spoiler alert: it gets worse.)

CT-2462, known as Screech to his brothers, wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to go through the advanced medic training.  The basic stuff had been hard, but worth it to be able to help his brothers.  The advanced training, which would allow him to do almost everything including surgery, was nothing but hell.  On top of that, he still had regular training with his unit, and he was on rotation to stand by for training accidents as well.  If this was anything like what the licensed doctors in the Republic went through, Screech could understand why they were so respected in all the holo stuff he heard about.

He had a full schedule, but Screech knew himself well enough to know that why ever he’d said yes, this was _exactly_ where he belonged.

Except on days like today, when their barracks rolled out pre-dawn for a surprise attack drill followed by a day of double PT because somebody, Screech tried very hard not to glare, had had the guts, but not the brains, to try pranking their trainer, Fannin. Just as they were heading back to the barracks and Screech was thinking of that blissful five minutes of allotted hot water, one of the other advanced medic cadets, a particularly nervous cadet named Flutter, had what amounted to a screaming and violent nervous breakdown in the mess hall over a lack of his preferred beverage.

With Flutter off the duty roster, and possibly to be labeled defective, Screech was next on rotation for medical duty.

So instead of his longed for shower and cajoling one of his brothers into trading backrubs, Screech found himself scrubbing down by way of the sonics and pulling together a medkit from the medical wing.  This particular training exercise was off planet, which meant a shuttle ride.  Screech detested shuttles, they were noise and vibrated if they were properly cared for, and there were far too many chances for accidents.

The final indignity to Screech’s long, and painful, day, was the fact that he couldn’t relax enough to sleep.  He didn’t know any of the cadets in his shuttle, nor the two trainers, and while logically these were his brothers, Screech found himself jerking awake every time one of them spoke or moved, much less when one of the trainers began stalking the aisle after the third hour of hyperspace.

Finally, they arrived at their location.  Screech let everyone else file off the shuttle before collecting his medkit and checking for the emergency medical supplies at the back of the shuttle.  He stepped off the shuttle and pressed his lips together to hold back any one of the various swears he favored.  It was shortly after dawn here, which he should have expected, and that meant they were starting the training exercise immediately.

“Everything all right Cadet?”

Screech turned to find one of the trainers watching him.  He saluted smartly, “I’m fine sir, thank you for asking.”

“All right,” the trainer said, then tossed him a small silver package.

Screech managed to catch it without dropping anything, and without muttering anything about people who threw things without warning.  His unit thought it was funny, the trainers would see it as insubordination.  Then he realized what he was holding, and he almost dropped it in distaste.

 _“Stim_ tabs?”

“You look like you need them.”

Screech flipped the package back at the trainer, “No thank you sir.  If I wanted to kill myself, there are a hundred options in my medkit, and they’re all effective, quick, and honest.”

“Honest?”  The trainer asked.

Screech nodded, “Yes sir, they don’t pretend to be good for you and poison you behind your back.”

“If you say so,” the trainer said, but he seemed amused as he walked away.

Screech shook his head slightly.  While he’d never gotten his unit interested, Screech had sworn off stimulants, including caff, years ago, after one particular marathon day had ended with him as a patient in the medical wing with heart palpitations from too much caff.  That and his studies into the effect of stimulants on the body had made him very aware of the things he did and did not put into his own body.

While the other trainer began to pull the squads together for their mission briefing, Screech found that one of the service corps who’d come along had already set up a bio-bed and table for him to work with.  The vod in question wasn’t in sight, but Screech made a note to have someone pass on his thanks at least.  He listened to the trainer as he set out some supplies for easy access.

Apparently, the squads were being split into two sides for a stalk and pounce game that would utilize the rolling hills and occasional groups of trees that surrounded them.  It was a three day, or until everyone’s dead, type mission.

Screech thought it sounded like it would end in broken bones, maybe even a broken neck, with the grins he saw being exchanged amongst the squads.

The squads were released to collect their supplies and prepare to be taken to their drop points in a pair of troop speeders that had been waiting for them.  Screech knew there was a base of sorts on the continent they used, mostly for the large speeders and a small emergency med center, but he’d never seen it.  He didn’t expect to see it this time either.  Instead, he set the alarm on his chrono for three hours and slid under the table to get some sleep before the mission began.

/././.\\.\\.\

Screech was moving before he was even awake, avoiding the kick someone leveled at him and surging up with his blaster rifle already aimed at his attacker.  Only to find himself staring at the trainer who’d offered him stim tabs.  For a moment, he thought the trainer looked impressed, before his face hardened. 

“Get your gear, there’s been an accident.”

Screech set the blaster down and reached for his medkit, “What happened? How many are hurt?”

When there was no response, Screech looked up to find the trainer was walking away already.

“Well that’s helpful,” Screech muttered as he opened the med kit and swept all the stuff he’d laid out previously back into the kit.

“Sir, we’ve moved the emergency medical supplies into the speeder.”

Screech turned to find one of the service corps vod standing by.  “Not a sir,” he told the vod, “and thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Screech grabbed his rifle as he ran his eyes over the table for anything he’d left behind, then sprinted after the trainer, who was sliding into the driver’s side of a large speeder with two crates on the back end with the medic’s emblem on them.  Screech slid into the passenger side and the trainer took off.

Screech glanced at his chrono, and shut off the alarm.  He’d gotten almost the full three hours, it would be enough.

“Sir, may I ask,” Screech said after a moment, “what is your name?”

“Browder,” the trainer grunted.

“And, what’s happened?”  Screech asked.

“Speeder crash,” the trainer said.

“Oh,” Screech sat back.

“Don’t worry about waving your blaster around, cadet.  Just do what you can.  We’ve sent someone to open up the base so we can do more advance treatment there, as well as to send word to Kamino for more medical treatment.  Just get these cadets ready to get to the center, anything else can happen when we get there.”

“Yes sir,” Screech said.

Minutes later they swung around a hill to reveal the speeder crash.  It looked as if the speeder had swerved unexpectedly, hit the hill at a bad angle causing the repulsers on one side to ramp up enough to roll the speeder several times and had scatter cadets all over the hill and the depression between it and another hill.  Screech set his blaster down, secured his medkit tightly and leaped out of the speeder the moment it had stopped.

 _Remember,_ he told himself as he took a deep breath, _the CMO outranks everyone in a medical emergency._

He turned to Browder, “Get the walking wounded together and sorted.  Anyone with broken bones, even if it’s suspected in one group, head wounds in a second, and bruised in a third.  Send the bruised to me for orders.”

That said, he headed to the first prone body he could see.

It was easy to fall into the habits of training, to examine, bind wounds, and perform the triage that would allow other medics or medical professionals to take over, working from most critical to least.  Screech kept himself in the moment, refusing to second guess his instincts.  He’d had training, and he knew what to do, now it was simply a matter of doing it.

Screech was jolted out of his work when he turned to the last body and found that he had a glaring black X on his cheek.  Dead.

Screech shook his head.  The pilot had died instantly, crushed in the crash.  This vod, Screech approached slowly, staring.  He didn’t look badly injured, and there were the symbols on his armor saying he’d had painkillers, so he’d been alive at some point.

“Cadet.”  Browder grabbed his arm.  Screech spun, reaching for pressure points in the hand holding him before he realized who it was.

“Sir?”  Screech asked, still not ready to apologize.  The vod’e had been trained to be dangerous, and if the trainers didn’t want them to react to surprising gestures violently, they should have reconsidered their training methods years ago.

“Good job cadet,” Browder said, “the doctors from Kamino are an hour out now.  Orders are, you’re on the shuttle back to Kamino now.”

“But, my patients,” Screech asked.

“You did excellent work,” Browder said slowly, “but now it’s time for someone else to finish it.  That’s an order.”

Screech sighed, “Yes sir.”

“The shuttle’s parked on the hill, waiting for you.  Go on,” Browder said.

Screech turned to find his medkit and his blaster.

“Cadet CT-2462, I said to go,” Browder said.

“Medkit and blaster sir,” Screech replied.

“Blaster’s already up there, and don’t worry, we’ll log in your medkit later,” Browder said, “get going now.”

Screech nodded slightly and started up the hill.  Judging by the sun, it was late afternoon, and Screech realized that his uniform had multiple blood splatters and his hands were distinctly red.  He resolved to get something to at least clean his hands with when he got to the shuttle.

A vod in the service corps uniform was waiting on the ramp with what looked like a clean shirt and a yellow towel. 

“Figured you’d want to clean up,” the vod said.

“Thank you,” Screech said, claiming the towel.  It smelled of disinfectant and was modestly damp.  He immediately began to scrub his hands and arms with it as he headed into the shuttle.  The ramp started up as soon as he and the other vod cleared it.

“You’ve got more on your face,” the vod said.

Screech sighed, not at all surprised by that one.  He refolded the towel for a clean space and began trying to clean it off.

“Better?”  He asked.

“No,” the vod said, “here.”  He shoved the shirt into Screech’s free hand, plucked the towel out of his grip, put a hand on his chin and began to clean his face briskly.

“Uh, thanks?”  Screech said when the vod stepped back.

“Change your shirt so we can strap in,” the vod said.  “I’m Logan, by the way.”

“Right,” Screech said, he pulled off his shirt, “I’m Screech.”  He pulled on the clean shirt with a soft sigh and followed Logan to the front as the shuttle began to vibrate from lift off.

They slid into the last row of seats and Screech shuddered as the shuttle momentarily shook harder than before.

“Not a fan?”  Logan asked.

“Not especially,” Screech said, “I have far too much knowledge of what happens when shuttle flight goes wrong.”

“You and me both,” Logan said.  “Lost three brothers in a crash, and the two survivors, well, they aren’t cadets anymore.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Screech murmured as the shuttle switched from repulsers to sublights for the final exit from atmosphere.  He remembered the body he’d left on the grass, with the black X of the deceased.

“Hey,” Logan said, catching Screech’s attention, “heard Browder gave you a compliment.”

“Uh, yes?”  Screech said, “I guess he did.”

“That’s pretty rare, Screech.  Browder doesn’t believe in praising people for doing what they’re trained to do.  You must have really impressed him.”  Logan said.

“But, all I did was my job,” Screech protested, “and I still lost one.”

“One,” Logan said, “two with the pilot, out of twenty four?  That’s not bad Screech.  That sounds incredible to me.”

“Hey Logan!”  A vod popped up from the seat in front of them with a bright grin.  “Want a blanket?”

“Sure Sunny,” Logan said, his voice surprisingly soft.  “Get one for both of us, please?”

“Yes sir,” Sunny replied.  He bounced out of his seat to the back of the shuttle where the small supply bins were located.  Screech noted that Sunny also wore the service corps uniform.  The grin as Sunny brought the blankets for them was even bigger than when he’d left.

“Here,” he dumped on in Screech’s lap.  “Logan’s right, you did good.”

“I, uh, thank you,” Screech said.

Sunny grinned and leaned over, “Logan’s always right, but I’m not supposed to say that.  Makes him arrogant.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Screech managed.  Sunny threw a blanket at Logan then dropped back into his seat with his own.

“That’s Sunny,” Logan said.  “Best shot with a blaster you’ve ever seen.”

“He’s possibly the happiest vod I’ve ever met,” Screech said as he arranged the blanket in his lap.

“Yeah, he’s that too,” Logan said.

There was a stuttering jerk and when Screech glanced at the shuttle’s view port, he saw the swirling blues of hyperspace.

“Forgive me for being rude,” Screech decided, “but I’m going to try to catch some sleep.”

“Go ahead,” Logan said, “I’ll probably nap too.”

/././.\\.\\.\

When Screech woke up, he was warm and oddly comfortable.  Then he realized he had his head resting on something that was moving.  Then a voice penetrated his sleep fogged brain.

“Sunny, you will have a five count head start when we land before I catch you and break that recorder.”

“Aw, but Logan!”

Memory, the training exercise, the crash, and the two service corps vod.

Screech jerked up right as he realized that the something moving was Logan’s shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Logan said, “it’s okay, nobody here but brothers.”

“I’m sorry,” Screech said, “I didn’t mean to turn you into my pillow.”

“It’s quite all right, vod,” Logan replied.  “I mean, except for the part where Sunny got some holos on his recorder, but this time I might just manage to break it before Rogue and Mando catch me.”

“Who?”  Screech asked.

“Members of my batch,” Logan said.

Service corps vod, Screech thought.  He shifted away from Logan and stretched, making his spine crack with relief.  Then he glanced up at the viewscreen, which showed the hanger bay to the training center.  There were a number of ships streaming away from the hanger.

“What’s happening?”  Screech said.

“I don’t know,” Logan replied, “nobody’s passed word back.”

The shuttle landed in the bay, most of which was filled with troopers in armor and formation, heading onto a large transport ship.  Screech fumbled his harness off, as did several other vod on the shuttle.  Being closest, Screech hit the ramp button as soon as they had clearance and shifted impatiently while the ramp lowered.

Waiting for them was Mij Gilamar, Screech’s primary instructor in his medical training, and a small and ancient being with green skin and a lightsaber.

“Sir?”  Screech saluted.

Gilamar nodded, “Nightshade Squadron, you’re being promoted to trooper, go get your battle gear and find Commander CC-3636, Wolffe.  CT/S-787 and 785, Logan and Sunny, see that the shuttle is properly unloaded and the used supplies replenished.  Stay away from the legions.  CC-2462, Screech.”

“Sir,” Screech said, then realized, “Sir, beg your pardon but, I’m a CT.”

“Not anymore,” Gilamar said.  “Effective now, you’re a Lieutenant, Screech.  It wasn’t the final exam I expected for you, but word from the training base is that at least seven of those cadets would have died if you hadn’t of been there and did your job.  Now, go get your battle gear and find your unit.  They’re in the 425th battalion, which is mustering in the citadel training room.  Medical supply kit will be waiting in the citadel training room for you.”

“Yes sir,” Screech said, even though he desperately wanted to know what was happening.

“War’s starting,” Gilamar said, “your battalion will be heading to Kamino with the others under the primary command of General Yoda here.  Now go.”

Screech saluted and ran for the barracks, ignoring the way his heart was pounding.  He never thought they’d actually have a call to action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, technically the end of the Kamino series because WAR. But I am still willing to tell other stories about the vod'e. Why am I marking it complete then? Because of the all consuming guilt I feel when I see that it's unfinished. Besides, WAR.


End file.
